


Fourth time's the charm

by AnnaHawk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After season 6, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Canon Compliant, Consensual bondage, Derek Hale Feels, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Dildos, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Mention of switching, Mutual Trust, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Derek Hale, Restraints, Smut, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Stiles is a genius, Sweet, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Topping from the Bottom, Wolfed Out Derek Hale, Wolfed Out Sex, all for fun and sex, crack with feeling, derek runs on instinct, until a certain point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaHawk/pseuds/AnnaHawk
Summary: Derek and Stiles have been together for a few months and Derek won't let Stiles stay on top during sex, his instincts telling him to take and claim. Stiles enjoys it to a certain point but decides to find a way to make Derek behave for once, no matter how many times he has to try.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 22
Kudos: 573





	Fourth time's the charm

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Teen Wolf fanfiction. I'm currently writing a Punisher/Reader series but this plot bunny just needed to come out. I intended it to just be some short pure porn but the story got a life of it's own and transformed into an over 10K words thing, with some actual research on bondage and other stuff.  
> And as I love those two, I couldn't help adding some feelings, because they fucking deserve happiness...  
> Note that I'm not American (or British for that matter) and have no idea how the FBI works or anything so please excuse any inaccuracies, as well as typos and weird phrasings.  
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy reading and have a good laugh.

Stiles is pissed. Really, _really_ pissed. Never mind the fact that Derek has him nearly folded in half as he fucks him into the mattress relentlessly, legs braced with a knee on each side of Stiles’ hips. Stiles’ legs are thrown over Derek’s arms and every slide in and out has Derek’s cock head rubbing just right over Stiles’ prostate, making the younger man gasp and moan in pleasure. His own dick is drooling steadily onto his stomach, the stimulation delicious and making Stiles grip Derek’s shoulders. Stiles' blunt bitten fingernails would be breaking skin if Derek hadn't been a werewolf. This seems to spur the wolf on anyway as he growls deep in his throat and ups the pace even more, Stiles keening and throwing his neck back. Derek rumbles out a deep sound and pushes his faces into Stiles’ neck.

“Sorry,” Derek pants harshly against Stiles' sweaty neck and nips it lightly. 

Yeah, Stiles is really fucking pissed.

“Fuck you,” he manages between two hard thrusts and then moans helplessly when Derek wiggles a hand between them and starts jerking Stiles’ slippery cock in fast strokes. 

“Stiles,” Derek half growls, half whimpers, apology clear in his voice. 

“I hate you so fucking much,” Stiles grits out but his voice breaks and goes higher as he starts coming hard all over Derek’s hand and both their stomachs. 

Derek kisses him then, catching Stiles’ last few moans with his lips and starts coming as well as he pushes his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, groaning long and deep. 

They keep kissing dazedly for a few long moments, getting their breathing back to normal. 

Derek recovers first of course and breaks the kiss to lift up slightly and release Stiles’ legs, putting them around his hips into a more comfortable position. Once done, he rests his forearms on either side of Stiles’ face. Stile groans in relief and pulls his legs straight one after the other to get any stiffness out and puts them back around Derek’s thighs this time. Stiles sighs and lifts his eyes to Derek’s, the man looking at him sheepishly. It’s not a typical expression for him and it has Stiles chuckling in fond exasperation. 

The younger man moves his hands from Derek’s shoulders and slides his fingers into the wolf’s hair, slowly raking his fingernails over the scalp. Derek closes his eyes and pushes his head into the caress. Stiles’ lips tug up at the sides at the action and pulls at the hair lightly. Derek whines dejectedly and lowers his head to nuzzle at Stiles’ neck again. Stiles lets go of Derek’s hair and reaches out with both hands towards each of Derek’s wrists until he meets soft leather. He turns his head to the side where Derek is not currently nosing at. His eyes land on thick, dark brown leather cuffs. Or more like the remains of them. The leather band is mostly ripped in places and the three metallic links attached to it are bent out of shape with the first one broken. 

“So much for restraints, huh?” Stiles finally says as he plays with the links absentmindedly. 

Derek stills over him and moves back up to look at him. 

“Sorry,” he repeats and is about to look away but Stiles grabs his face and pulls him back down into a hard, closed lipped kiss.

Then he pushes Derek up and off of himself. Derek goes with the motion and they both groan when he slips out of Stiles. 

Stiles sits up slowly and looks around himself. 

They didn't really take their time to undress each other, nearly ripping fabric here and there as they went, so their clothes are lying in small piles by a nearby chair. 

The bed though, is a mess. The rest of the metal parts of the handcuffs are dangling from each side of the thick wrought iron frame of the headpiece. The sheets are a tangled mess around the two of them and the pillows have vanished from the bed entirely. They must have kicked them off when Stiles landed with his back at the foot of the bed. 

Stiles hears tearing and turns his head to find Derek ripping the rest of the handcuffs off of his wrists. Stiles glares at them where they land on the bed. He really hoped they would help with this. 

He huffs in renewed annoyance and gets up, stumbling slightly, legs still a bit wobbly from the intense round of sex. 

“You get to clean up, big guy,” Stiles tells Derek pointedly, indicating the bed with a wave of his hand and walking into the bathroom to clean himself. Derek stays quiet but Stiles hears the rustling of bed sheets as he gets the shower running. 

Stiles waits until the water is nice and hot before he steps in to stand under the spray, closing the stall door behind himself. He ducks his head and grunts in pleasure as hot bursts hit his neck. He closes his eyes and can’t help thinking back to how they got into this situation in the first place. 

He and Derek have been together for some months now and the sex has been incredible from the start. 

They came from so far together, went through so many life changing things. Went from hating each other to being reluctant allies to actual friends. So after Stiles found Derek and they went back to Beacon Hills to help Scott and the rest of the pack, they both decided to stay when everything was finally over with Gerard. Derek had taken up residence in his old loft again and applied to become a deputy. Noah Stilinski hadn’t even hesitated before taking him under his wing. Stiles still wanted to go back to Quantico but wanted to stay back a little more. Stay around his Dad and friends. And Derek.

One night, some weeks later, during a pack and friends gathering, Stiles decided to throw caution to the wind and kissed Derek. Right there, in front of everybody. He remembers how everyone went completely silent. All of them, him included, holding their breaths. And then Derek had sprung into action and kissed him back fiercely. 

He remembers Lydia’s “Ugh, finally,” from somewhere behind them and everyone started laughing at once. He and Derek as well, resting their foreheads together and breathing each other in. 

That night had been one of the best of Stiles’ life. 

Now, months later, Derek a full fledged Deputy, everything’s perfect. _Except_ for two minor details. 

The first being that Stiles has been back to his internship with the FBI and isn’t home that often. He tries to come home once a month, for weekends and such, but it’s not easy. Before Stiles left, they had talked about it at length and Derek insisted he go back because it had always been something Stiles wanted to do. His internship is only for six months anyway, so they make it work. They would see where things would take him after that.

The second thing though, is a little bit more frustrating. 

While they both like switching, Stiles prefers bottoming. And Derek is more than happy to oblige him. The only thing is that whenever Stiles wants to ride Derek and take control of the moment, he always, and he means _always_ , finds himself on his back or on his hands and knees with Derek being all possessive and fucking into him wildly until they are both coming hard. 

At first, Stiles had gone with it, shrugging it off, because he loves it when Derek gets all wolfy on him. Still does very much.

But it’s when he'd started insisting that he stay on top, that things kind of got out of hand. Until then, when Stiles had been on top, it would only last until Derek was inside him before Derek would flip them over. 

The first time Stiles had insisted on it, Derek had been sitting against the headboard as Stiles had slowly sunk down on him. Stiles had started moving, gradually gaining speed, arms wrapped around Derek’s neck, panting out pleased little moans. At first he had thought that was it, Derek was giving over control, but then he'd felt Derek shift underneath him, slipping just a little further down, moving his knees up and apart under Stiles. And then he'd snapped his hips up. Stiles had cried out and before he’d known what was going on, Derek had both of Stiles’ arms behind his own back, tugged him close and started thrusting up into him in hard and fast movements. Stiles had only been able to take what Derek was giving him, his head lolling forward against Derek’s temple, cries and groans getting always louder. 

Well, he couldn't _really_ complain about _this_ instance because he had come all over them both, completely untouched. And technically, he had stayed on top. 

But still. This had not been what he'd wanted.

Derek had apologized and said it wouldn't happen again.

Except it had.

The second time Stiles told him he wanted to ride him, he'd had Derek lying fully on his back. They had done some extremely pleasurable foreplay, with Stiles hovering over Derek’s face where the wolf had been eating him out and prepping him diligently. It had been so, _so_ good, Stiles barely able to keep up his own ministrations on Derek’s dick. If he hadn't wanted Derek in him so much, he would have let Derek make him come just like this. But as he really had wanted to ride him, he'd slid forward until his hips aligned with Derek’s, without turning to face him and lowered himself onto the other man’s waiting cock. At first, he'd gotten a small rhythm going, just moving in small increments. But then he'd leaned back, bracing himself with his hands on Derek's chest, pulling his hips up and down, gradually speeding up and going harder just like last time. The position had been incredible and Stiles had been proud of the sounds he had been able to get out of Derek.

And yet, just like last time, Derek had snapped. He had pushed Stiles forward so he'd landed on his hands and knees, Derek had knelt up himself, grabbed Stiles’ wrists in one hand and pushed his head down into the mattress with the other. Stiles had tried to tell him “No,” as best he could with his face pushed into the bed sheets and his hands behind his back, but could only gasp and moan in pleasure when Derek entered him again. The older man had then proceeded to fuck him hard, growling and snarling in his chest all the while. 

They had both come pretty fast after that.

Stiles had sulked the whole day after, while Derek apologized again and again.

The third time had been earlier this evening. 

They had discussed the situation over and over again while Stiles was away again and Derek had suggested restraints. Even if he could get out of them, maybe just the fact that his hands were bound would make him hold himself back. Maybe it would ground him enough to stay put and let Stiles do all _the work_. Stiles had gone with the idea and Derek had gotten himself the, now ruined, handcuffs. 

Stiles had come back from training for a long weekend two days ago and had spent the first evening with his father. Although he spends most nights at Derek’s whenever he's back in Beacon Hills, he always makes sure to spend some quality father/son time with his Dad. Yesterday, he had been with Derek all day, lazily making out on the couch and having amazing, languid sex with Stiles fucking Derek slowly.

But today Stiles had wanted to use the new handcuffs. 

That's why earlier, Stiles had taken all precautions and prepared himself in advance to Derek’s return later that evening. He had taken a long shower and opened himself up slowly. It had taken a lot of self restraint not to jerk off in the shower while he was at it. But he had wanted to keep all the pleasure for later, so he’d refrained. When he'd finally deemed himself stretched enough, he had inserted a butt plug, his erection taking a considerable amount of time to go down. 

He had then made himself comfortable on the couch and waited for Derek to come back.

When he’d finally come home after his late shift, it had been to Stiles watching TV in shorts and one of Derek’s t-shirts, the handcuffs laying inconspicuously next to him. Stiles had seen Derek’s expression change from tired but happy to see him, to aroused in a fraction of a second as the werewolf smelled the air around him and Stiles’ obvious arousal. The small part of Derek’s eyes that wasn't swallowed up by his blown pupils, turned yellow when they fell on the cuffs next to him. Stiles had smirked when Derek'd approached him slowly but surely, predator-like, and growled “Bed, _now_!” while starting to unbutton his uniform.

Stiles had stood as gracefully as possible with the plug moving around inside him and casually walked to the spiral staircase, taking the cuffs with him and dangling them from his long fingers. Derek had growled again, wolf close to the surface, and grabbed Stiles’ hips to get him to move faster. That had caused the plug to push right against his prostate, making Stile gasp sharply and groan. Derek had paused in the middle of taking another step and Stiles had heard him inhale deeply. A low rumble had formed slowly in Derek's chest and his voice turned deeper than usual, the wolf definitely right there. “Stiles?” he'd said slowly, dangerously. 

Stiles had cleared his throat and answered, trying to sound normal but so turned on and amused at the same time. “Yeah?”

“Are you…” Derek had sniffed the air again. “Did you…”

Stiles had turned in Derek’s grasp and the latter had let him go when he'd started climbing the stairs slowly backwards. Not so easily done in circular stairs. 

“Gonna help me get this plug out of me or am I gonna have to do it all by myself?” he’d asked, lips stretching slowly into a wicked grin when Derek’s nostrils flared again, eyes shining and his nails elongated into claws, scratching over the metal of the railing.

“Don’t try me, Stiles, if you still want to use the handcuffs.” Derek had warned him, growing fangs making his speech a bit thicker, darker. 

Stiles’ smile hadn’t lessened but he'd inclined his head in acknowledgement and started up the stairs at a faster pace, Derek close on his heels. 

Once at the bed, Derek had grabbed Stiles by the hips and clashed their lips into a hard and hungry kiss.

From there, their clothes had been nearly ripped off by each other and they'd fallen in a tangle of limbs on the bed, Stiles moaning with every move of the plug. He hadn't wasted any time in pushing Derek onto his back, the wolf allowing it graciously, and linking the cuffs to each side of the bed, wrapping the leather around Derek’s wrists. Stiles had sat panting in excitement over him, stroking his fingers from Derek’s wrists, down until they came to his chest, running his thumbs over his nipples. Damn, but was he ever beautiful. 

“Stiles,” Derek had breathed, hair a ridiculous mess on the pillows below him and Stiles had lifted his eyes to his. Yeah, Stiles had thought, beautiful in every way imaginable. 

“Sorry,” he had whispered in return and lowered himself to kiss Derek passionately. “Just sometimes cant’ believe your mine,” he’d said, lips still grazing Derek’s. 

“Yours,” Derek had confirmed fervently and surged upwards to kiss Stiles again. “Mine,” he'd then spoken between kisses.

“Yours,” Stiles had repeated, the one word just as heartfelt.

He’d then reached behind himself to remove the plug. He'd groaned low and long as it slid out and had thrown it to the side. He'd moved a bit up the bed to reach the lube pump bottle they keep on the bedside table and squirted a few dollops into his palm. He moved back down and sat up to smear the lube all over Derek’s very hard cock. Breathing heavily, Stiles had looked back to Derek, who had been watching him avidly, awaiting his next move eagerly and sunk down in one fluid motion. Stiles had closed his eyes and thrown his head back at the delicious stretch and cried out in bliss. “Fuck _yes_!” 

Derek hadn't been faring any better with his head pushed back into the pillows and gasping loudly.

Stiles had set for an immediate fast tempo, raising and then slamming back down hard, sharp gasps and moans leaving his half open mouth. He had been able to hear how the handcuffs were rattling against the iron, but Derek was still holding back. Although when Stiles had opened his eyes a fraction, he was definitely fighting with himself. His eyes had been burning brightly, moving rapidly over Stiles’ body and face. 

“Mine,” Derek had rumbled lowly and suddenly, Stiles had heard a loud clanking and looked to the cuffs. Derek had started tugging at them but hadn't seemed aware that he was doing it.

“Derek.” Stiles had slowed down by then and spoken warningly. “Come on, Der, don’t.”

But Derek had kept up a litany of “Mine,” and “Stiles,” and Stiles had seen how the metal had slowly but surely been bending out of shape and heard the leather crack. Derek’s hips had started to move as well and Stiles groaned as they hit just right. 

“Shit, Derek, please don’t do it,” he had gasped brokenly as he'd sped up as well, trying to get back control. “I’m warning you, dude, if you break the cuffs I’m-”

But his threats had been in vain, because Derek had finally torn off the metal on both cuffs at nearly the same time and had pounced on Stiles. 

This is how they'd ended up here.

In the shower, Stiles rubs his hands over his face in frustration and huffs as he comes back to the present. He really needs to find a solution. He’s not asking for a lot, right? He’d just like to stay on top and in control just once. 

He takes a deep breath and turns off the shower. He would have to take matters into his own hands it seems. 

Once he’s done getting ready for the night, he slips out of the bathroom to find Derek sitting on the freshly made bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He looks up at Stiles when he hears him get back inside the room and Derek looks guilty up at him. Like a puppy doing something he knows he shouldn’t have done but still did. Stiles bites his lip on a grin and keeps this thought for himself. Now is not the time for bad dog jokes. No matter how accurate they are. 

Stiles sighs and moves to slip into Derek’s lap, the werewolf straightening out of his earlier pose to accommodate him. He slides his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugs on it without malice. He tilts the wolf’s head back so he can look into his eyes. 

“We’re okay, big guy,” Stiles tells him evenly. “Believe me, I _am_ pissed. I really am, but I guess it’s really not that easy to get over your instincts, huh?” He tugs at Derek's hair again. 

“Never been an issue before,” Derek tells him ruefully but keeps eye contact. 

Stiles grins wide and happy.

“Guess I’m just that special, hm?” He teases gently and kisses Derek softly on the lips. 

Derek lowers his head to one of Stiles’ shoulders, Stiles’ fingers still in his hair. 

“A special pain in the ass,” he voices into the small space. 

Stiles snorts in amusement but is able to read between the lines. Derek is still a bit reserved. At least with his words. But Stiles has been talking ‘Derek’ for a while now. Derek’s way better at expressing his emotions with actions. Has been from day one really, when he kept shoving Stiles against walls and other flat surfaces. Now, there is still some shoving going on, but the good kind. And a great deal of kissing too, so that’s that.

“Let’s go to bed,” Stiles finally says and makes to stand. 

Derek nods and heads for the bathroom to get ready as well.

When Derek comes back, Stiles is lying under the covers, fingers steepled together over them and looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. 

“I’m gonna find a way to keep you from going all alpha werewolf on me, you know,” he tells Derek resolutely as Derek lies down next to him, turning his head to face said werewolf. 

“Of course you will.” and his words aren’t patronizing, but convinced he will. Stiles loves how confident Derek is in Stiles' abilities to find solutions. Derek leans in to kiss him lightly and Stiles smiles into it.

~

When Stiles is back in Quantico with just one month left of his internship, he spends the time he’s not working, looking up possible solutions. No easy feat considering he wants to restrain a frigging werewolf. It’s not like there is anything worthwhile online. And there isn’t a special category for them on sex shop websites. Well, there is actually, but it’s more wolf costumes and some very disturbing dildos. _Not_ what he is looking for.

Technically, he knows how to restrain a werewolf. But he would like it very much if there wasn't any electricity involved. He doesn't think Derek would take too kindly to it. 

It’s some nights later, while he is lying in bed and just got off a phone call with Derek, that he thinks he might have an idea. Before he executes his plan, he needs to make sure it’s safe for Derek.

He ends up calling Deaton the next day, because who has more knowledge on werewolves than Deaton? Probably Chris Argent, but Stiles definitely doesn't want to call him for something like that. At least Deaton will be as cool as a cucumber like always, no matter what questions Stiles has for him.

“Stiles, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Comes the veterinarian’s even voice through Stiles’ phone.

“Uh, hey, Doc, hey… I, er, have a question… about werewolves?” Stiles’ voice is a little strained and he clears his throat.

“Anything wrong with Derek?” And oh boy, the man is as perceptive as always.

“Uh no, nothing’s wrong… I was just wondering about something the other day… you know how my brain never shuts up when I get something in my head, right…” Stiles laughs nervously. He knows he’s rambling and clears his throat again to stop himself from oversharing.

Deaton blessedly remains quiet, waiting Stiles out.

“Yeah, so, erm… if someone wanted to restrain a werewolf, you know, without having to physically harm them, just to keep them in place… if one used some rope that’s dunked in wolfsbane… do you think it could work without harming them?” 

It all comes out in a rush of words and Stiles, from where he’s sitting at his desk in his small unit room, hopes Deaton got it all. He’s biting at his thumbnail and jiggling one leg nervously while he waits for Deaton’s answer.

There's a thoughtful humming coming from the other side of the phone.

“I suppose it could work. And no, if you infuse the wolfsbane, as long as they don’t ingest it, they should be fine. The rope would have to be fully coated in it though, for it to have the desired effect. And it would have to be a very sturdy rope as well and one would have to wrap it around the limbs several times to weaken the strength of a werewolf,” Deaton tells Stiles thoughtfully. 

Stiles nods along and scribbles a few notes on a sheet of paper. 

“And the bed frame should be robust as well,” Deaton finishes, amusement coloring his tone lightly. 

Stiles manages to choke on his own spit when the last words register and ends up in a coughing fit to get his breath back. 

“Yeah, that uh, shouldn't be a problem…” he croaks in embarrassment when he’s able to speak again. Oh God, why did he think asking Deaton was the best idea? “Thanks, Doc, that was, erm, very helpful.”

“Of course.” Comes the easy answer, and Stiles is already about to bid him goodbye when Deaton continues. “Should I send you some wolfsbane up there and explain how to infuse it?”

“You would?” Stiles asks flabbergasted. He thought he would have to wait until he got back from the internship.

“I told you before that you have the spark in you. I don’t doubt you would be able to become proficient with herbs and such if you wanted to learn it from me,” Deaton tells him earnestly. 

Stiles is quiet for a few long seconds before he speaks again.

“To be honest, I've been kinda thinking about staying close to Beacon Hills once I’m done here. The supernatural crap isn't going to stop coming anytime soon, right? And I’d like to be able to help more. If I get to be a cop over there… maybe I'll be able to notice if there’s actually something _more_ going on, you know, like my Dad and Derek.”

He hasn’t even talked about any of this with anyone yet. He has alluded to it, saying it would be nice if he were to come back for good, but he hasn’t confirmed it. Funny how a conversation that started about his sex life became one about his future. 

“I’m afraid you are right about the… supernatural crap, as you put it.” Stiles cringes slightly. “And you have always been valuable to Scott and the Pack. It might not be my place to say this, but I'm sure everyone.” and Stiles can tell from how he says _everyone,_ he strongly includes Derek in it. “Will accept whichever decision you make.”

“Yeah, I know… Thank you, Doc, seriously.”

“I'm always glad to help… now about the wolfsbane,” Deaton continues like he was talking about the weather and not how Stiles is planning to tie up his boyfriend for sexual pleasure.

Stiles coughs self-consciously before he answers.

“Uh, yeah, I’d appreciate it if you could send me everything... I need…” he trails off weekly at the end.

This is how Stiles finds himself giving his informations to Deaton and then going to bed, everything feeling a bit surreal afterwards. 

But he’s glad he called in the end. He definitely didn't expect the conversation to go that way but talking with someone as impartial as Deaton kind of cleared his head and helped him understand what he really wants. Namely, going back home for good.

~

Three weeks later, he’s landing in San Francisco after a six hour flight with all the belongings he had taken with him to Virginia holding in two suitcases. 

His Dad and Derek being on duty right now, Scott is the one waiting for him at the arrivals, his usual big smile welcoming him. They hug tightly before they make their way to the baggage claim.

“So you’re really officially back?” Scott asks him excitedly when they finally climb into Stiles’ blue jeep Scott drove to the airport. 

“Yup,” Stiles confirms, popping the P happily. “I’m gonna see what happens in the next few months with Deaton and I'll go from there. But I’m staying around no matter what.”

Stiles had accepted Deaton’s proposal to train him for the next few months. He wants to see where his alleged Spark will take him and maybe include his knowledge in a Law Enforcement carrier later.

“That’s amazing, man! The Pack hasn't been the same without you,” Scott tells him with his usual honesty.

“Aw, Scotty,” Stiles cooes, going for humour like he always does when he’s embarrassed, but grabs Scott's shoulder affectionately and grins big and happy. 

Stiles sends a quick text to tell Derek he landed safely, knowing he will let his Dad know as well and gets a short reply saying Derek is happy to be seeing him later tonight.

Scott gets Stiles updated on all things pack while they drive home. They will be seeing a lot of each other in the near future as Scott’s going to keep working with Deaton like before.

“Where do you wanna go first? Your Dad’s or Derek’s?” Scott asks him from the driver’s side when they enter Beacon Hills. Considering Stiles just had a long flight, Scott offered to drive.

“Depends where you left your bike, man.”

“I had my mom drive me to your Dad’s to get the car earlier. Thought you might need help unpacking,” Scott tells him, shrugging.

“My man.” Stiles pumps Scott's arm warmly, the latter simply grinning in answer. “Let’s go to Derek’s, my Dad won't be home until late too, so we decided to meet for lunch tomorrow.”

Then his mind goes to the wolfsbane infused rope in one of his suitcases. He clears his throat before speaking again and wills himself not to blush as he keeps looking straight ahead.

“There’s something I'd like your help with anyway.”

Scott seems to pick up on something because Stiles sees him look at him briefly out of the corner of his eyes, but just nods and turns towards Derek’s loft.

When he decided to come back, he had talked with his Dad about staying mostly with Derek. Good thing his father likes Derek because he hadn't been too thrilled about it at first. Stiles imagines it had been an awkward few days between his father and Derek whenever they worked together when it was clear Derek and Stiles were going to be living together for real. But Stiles had promised he'd be over a lot, enough to make his dad want to kick him out. 

Once they’ve parked in front of Derek's building, they heft the two heavy (heavy for Stiles anyway) suitcases up the few flights of stairs and deposit them in Derek's living room. 

"Okay, what's up?" Scott demands. "Your heart rate is through the roof and it's _not_ just because you took the stairs, _and_ you smell all nervous." Scott wrinkles his nose in confusion.

Oh Scott, of all the times to be perceptive, Stiles thinks.

“Okay, first you have to promise me not to freak out on me and I totally have a good reason for doing this,” Stiles says quickly, hands fidgeting. 

Scott looks at him with worry, eyes large, but nods.

“Of course, man, what is it? What happened?”

“No, no, it’s nothing serious or anything,” Stiles starts explaining, waving his hands around to get the point across. “I… it’s…gah… let me just show you, okay?” he huffs, half annoyed and half embarrassed.

He turns to one of his suitcases and pops it open. He rummages around for a few seconds until he finds the long piece of rope and pulls it out. The rope is made of pitch black nylon. Stiles had spent a lot of time online to find some of the stronger ropes out there. Scott looks at him in confusion when he sees what he’s holding. 

“Why do you travel with rope?” he asks, frowning.

Stiles sighs and steps over to his best friend. 

“I had Deaton help me infuse it with wolfsbane,” he tells Scott slowly and Scott's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes returning to the rope with an air of apprehension, sniffing the air delicately.

“I don’t smell anything,” Scott says, surprised and unsure.

“That, at least, means I did it right. Deaton said it shouldn't smell of anything,” Stiles says, relieved he didn't mess up at least. He keeps going when Scott's confused look gets deeper. “Okay, so,” he laughs nervously. “I need your help finding out if it works.”

“Works how?” Scott asks warily, still eyeing the rope.

“It’s not dangerous for you, dude, I would never ask you to try something out if it might hurt you. And neither would Deaton help me with it.”

Scott looks up to Stiles and his expression changes to acceptance as he seems to go over Stiles’ words. 

“So what? You want to tie me up?” he questions amusedly but then his eyes go from the rope to Stiles again a few times and then grow huge as he seems to come to some conclusion. “Oh my God, you want to tie Derek up for, for-” his voice is high in horrified and embarrassed realization as he steps away. “TMI, dude! Seriously.”

“Wow, wow, Scott wait!” Stiles walks after him and catches one of his arms. “Yes, okay it’s for … _that_ … but as I said, I have a good reason for doing it and for asking you, okay? And believe me, I'm just as embarrassed as you are, if not more,” Stiles tells his friend, blush rising to his face.

Scott looks at him silently, face just as red as Stiles’ and presses his lips together as he deliberates. 

“May I add that you've told me waaaay too many things about your own exploits during these last few years?” Stiles carries on with a pointed look.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to have to visualize the two of you doing the kinky stuff,” Scott mumbles but has the decency to look sheepish. 

“I just wanna know if you can rip through them. You’re a True Alpha and if _you_ can’t, then Derek won't be able to either. At least I hope not. I know _born_ werewolves are often stronger than most _bitten_ werewolves but I’m definitely _not_ asking for Peter’s help on that. So that leaves you,” Stiles explains as casually as possible to take the weirdness out of the situation.

Scott sighs and then nods. 

“Yeah, fine, okay,” he says but then looks at Stiles skeptically. “Do I have to lay down or something?”

Stiles laughs out loud this time. “Nah, dude, like this is fine. Just put your arms out straight for me and I'll just tie the rope around them.”

Scott does as requested and Stiles unravels the curls of rope and proceeds to wrap it around Scott's arms, tying them together securely. Scott watches him do it for a while before he speaks, tone between curious and apprehensive. Sure enough, his next question has Stiles stopping for a second.

“Some very specific knots you're using here, man.”

“Yeah well, Deaton said the rope has to be put on real tight and covering most of the arms to be working. It’s not like I can use any basic knots so I looked some up online,” Stiles tells him, not meeting his friend’s eye and trying to keep his voice neutral. He’s going to spare Scott's sensibilities by not telling him he actually looked at a lot of bondage tutorials on how to do some decent ties. 

Scott wisely just nods and lets Stiles finish tying his arms in easy silence.

Once he’s done, Stiles steps away from him and crosses his arms, looking at his handy work critically. 

“How are you feeling? Any unease? Pain? Anything?” Stiles asks, wanting to make sure he’s not going to hurt anyone.

Scott shrugs, surprise clear in his eyes as he looks at the rope.

“Nope, nothing at all.”

“Okay, now try and rip ‘em. Give it all you've got, okay? I don’t care if they do, I just need to know if they work or not,” he tells Scott when he’s satisfied he did everything correctly.

Scott looks at Stiles for a second and then down to his bound arms. He takes in a deep breath and then starts straining against the tight coils. Seconds pass and nothing happens. Stiles sees him try harder, Scott's face starting to turn red with effort and grunts leaving his mouth. Stiles bites at his thumbnail in nervous anticipation. 

“Come on, Scott! Give it your all.” He pushes his friend loudly but not unkindly.

Scott's eyes start bleeding red and his face transforms slowly into his beta form. He widens his stance and starts snarling as he gives it the hardest tug yet but the ropes, except creaking lightly but not ominously, hold fast and don’t budge. Finally, Scott gives one last cry of frustration and then slumps back onto the couch behind him, gasping and sweating slightly, arms still miraculously bound. Stiles can’t help his victorious whoop as he walks over to his panting friend.

“Works,” Scott says still a bit winded and grins up at Stiles in good humour, face turning back to human. 

“Hell, yeah!” Stiles concurs happily and kneels in front of the Alpha to undo the knots.

Once he’s done, he brings it back to his suitcase because he doesn’t want Derek to see it before they’re actually going to use it, and then walks over to the kitchen to grab two sodas. 

When he returns to go sit with Scott, the latter is rubbing at his arms absentmindedly.

“You hurt?” Stiles wants to know immediately and reaches out to Scott arms after putting the drinks on the coffee table. Scott quickly shakes his head but lets Stiles see for himself. 

“I’m fine. I’m just impressed they work this well. I wonder why no one ever used something like that against us before?” Scott says with a shrug.

Stiles releases Scott’s arms once he’s sure he’s really fine and grabs the two cans again, giving one to his friend.

“Probably because those who usually restrain you, don’t care if you get hurt. Or more like, they actually _do_ want to hurt you. And you saw how much work it is to get them on. Chaining you to an electrified fence seems easier to do than this,” Stiles says while he cracks his can open and looks at Scott with a sarcastic smile before taking a sip of his drink.

“Good point,” Scott agrees easily. 

They end up spending the rest of the afternoon and evening together, getting Stiles’ things put away and ordering pizza to eat in front of the TV. 

Scott leaves around ten, saying he has to work the next day and bids Stiles goodnight, declining Stiles proposal to drive him home, saying he’ll just run. Stiles himself is beat, as Virginia is three hours ahead, for his body, it’s already way past midnight. He had planned to stay up until Derek got home but his eyelids are already drooping. So he gets up, cleans up the mess he and Scott made and heads up to get ready for bed. 

He showers quickly to get the day’s activities off and slides under the cool sheets in boxers and a t-shirt after brushing his teeth. He falls asleep nearly instantly, his last conscious thought going to the successful experience with the rope. 

Some time later, he wakes to Derek slipping under the covers behind him and Stiles turns to face his boyfriend.

“Hey,” comes Derek’s soft voice as he gathers Stiles in his arms for a warm and welcoming embrace. 

“Hey yourself,” Stiles replies drowsily but so happy to have Derek back and hugging the other man back tightly, tangling their legs together. 

Stiles lifts his head slightly in silent request for a kiss as he can’t see Derek in the dark and gets it answered immediately as Derek leans in for it. 

They kiss slowly, not rushing at all, exploring each other’s mouths in lazy strokes. They haven’t been able to touch each other in nearly a month, so even though both are tired, their dicks harden fully in a small amount of time as they rut languidly against each other. Derek brings one hand between their hips and pushes their underwear down enough to free their hard-ons, then circles them both in his large palm. They both gasp low into each others mouths at the delicious friction, their mutual precome helping ease the way of Derek’s hand. From there, it doesn’t take them long to come, their climax shooting over Derek’s hand and their lower bellies while they continue kissing. They stay locked together for a small while, savouring the afterglow before Derek gets up to get a wet washcloth and wipes them down quickly before getting back into bed. 

They both fall asleep fast, arms around each other. 

Stiles considers leaving the rope where he hid it for a few days, but his mind keeps going back to it and the hopeful promise it holds. 

He spends the next day with his Dad as promised, going as far as letting him eat a burger for lunch. Derek is a very convenient spy and helps Stiles keep the sheriff's diet on track. His father isn’t happy about it obviously and threatened to give Derek the worst schedule possible, but he relented only because Derek sometimes brings him homemade food when they’re on the same shift. 

After lunch, they hang out at home watching a ball game until his dad has to get ready for work. He’s on night shift with Derek, so when Stiles heads to Derek’s (he should start thinking about it as home though), Derek is already gone, a small note left on the fridge telling Stiles he left him some food.

Three days pass like this, with Derek on night shifts, so the only thing they do is swapping sleepy blowjobs when he gets home very early in the morning. 

As Derek sleeps, Stiles spends his day with Scott at the clinic, helping out here and there and talking with Deaton about his upcoming lessons. Stiles is pretty excited to get started if he’s honest. 

It’s only the next day when Derek has two consecutive days off, that Stiles starts putting his plan into action. 

He hadn’t told Derek he had found a possible solution, not wanting to get their hopes up in case it didn’t work out in the end. So while they're having dinner after they spent the afternoon cuddling on the couch while watching Star Wars, Stiles casually drops the bomb.

“So, I think I found a way to restrain you,” he tells Derek simply as he takes a bite of his chicken cacciatore.

Derek’s eyes snap up to his immediately, his fork stopping half way to his mouth. Stiles stares back evenly while he chews and grins slowly once he's swallowed. 

Derek’s eyes darken, arousal rising between them rapidly. The fact that they haven’t actually fucked in a month making everything more urgent.

Stiles sees him tone it down forcefully though, as Derek finally takes his last bite of food slowly. He doesn’t break eye contact. 

“How,” he finally asks after a long minute of staring contest. Stiles has become very good at holding his own with Derek.

Stiles’ grin widens even more, becomes mischievous and he licks his lips.

“Care to find out?” he goads as he finishes his meal and relaxes against the back of the chair, taking a sip of soda from his glass. 

In answer, Derek pushes his empty plate away, stands and then stalks over to where Stiles is laughing merrily, tugging him up by one arm.

“Right now, huh?” Stiles teases happily, stepping into Derek’s space and circling his neck to glide his fingers through Derek’s hair, something the werewolf has always loved.

“Right now,” Derek confirms fiercely and honest to God, lifts Stiles up and throws him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing. Stiles squawks indignantly as he’s carried off to the stairs, but has to laugh loudly at Derek’s “You took too fucking long to get upstairs last time.”

Derek climbs the stairs rapidly but is mindful enough to take care not to let Stiles hit his head against the railing.

Once they're upstairs, Derek drops Stiles unceremoniously in the middle of the bed where he bounces up once from the impact. He’s chuckling in amusement and crawls up the bed until his head is resting against the pillows. Derek doesn't waist one second before he’s on him and between his awaiting legs. Stiles automatically lifts his head to meet the werewolf in a passionate kiss, hands going back into Derek's hair, tugging and petting. Derek devours his mouth and rumbles incessantly at Stiles’ caresses, then lowers his hips to rut up against Stiles who groans deeply at the friction and circles Derek’s hips with his legs to get him even closer. They both opted to wear comfortable clothes as they were staying in, so they're both wearing loose sweatpants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The idea of what is yet to come and their lack of action over the last month has them already hard and panting against each other. 

Stiles, feeling like he’s already way too close to the edge, breaks the kiss reluctantly and pushes at Derek’s shoulders gently.

“As much as I love this,” he pants and waves a hand emphatically at them both and what they were doing. “I’d really like it if I _didn't_ come in my pants like a fucking thirteen year old.” Derek laughs silently through his nose and bites Stiles’ jaw kindly. “ _And_ , let’s not forget _why_ you carried me all the way up here in the first place acting all caveman like and all, hum?”

That earns him a harder nip, making him yelp and swat at Derek’s shoulder in retaliation, not like it has any effect on him of course. The wolf rises slightly and lets himself fall to the side, landing next to Stiles and watches him expectantly, expressive eyebrows lifted in silent question.

Stiles turns his face to look at him and sweeps his eyes slowly over Derek’s gorgeous form, eyes zeroing in on the large bulge in his pants, matching Stiles’ own. When his eyes lift to Derek’s again, the latter is regarding him with a smug and knowing smirk. Stiles can only grin back, not one bit embarrassed of his unashamed perusal. He extends a hand to grab Derek’s shirt and pulls it up. The older man goes with it and helps remove it. Stiles leans in quickly and steals a kiss before concentrating on pulling down Derek’s pants. It takes all of his will power not to get his mouth on the wolf’s gorgeous, engorged dick the moment he’s gloriously naked in front of him. He swallows the saliva that gathered in his mouth at the sight and leaps off the bed lest he forgets himself. He goes to his new wardrobe, courtesy of Derek as he needed his own space for his stuff, and squats down in front of it to reach the far bottom of it. He retrieves a large box filled with some old nick nacks and such. He pulls out the rope he had hidden inside after his return to Beacon Hills and puts the box back in place. When he turns around to walk back to the bed, Derek is half sitting, half lying against the pillows and watching him curiously. Stiles takes a second to drink in the sight of the beautiful naked man waiting for him before he keeps moving. Derek’s eyes make their way to what's in Stiles hands and his eyebrows lift in surprise when he recognizes what it is, then lower into a sceptical look.

"It's especially strong rope you can use for bondage," Stiles explains in answer to the wolf’s expression, uncoiling the rope slowly, letting it glide through his fingers.

"You know I'll be able to rip through it too, right?" Derek says slowly as if Stiles is being voluntarily obtuse, but the younger man just smiles impishly and shrugs. 

"You trust me, right?" Stiles asks, fondness surrounding his words as he straddles Derek and leans down to kiss him chastely. 

"You know I do," Derek answers against his lips.

"Good," Stiles speaks happily, still leaning close and then straightens over the other's hips. "Now put your hands over your head."

Derek smirks. "That's usually my line," he says lightly, teasing, but lifts his arms obediently and links his fingers together over his head, resting them against the cool metal behind him.

“Well Deputy, today _I_ make up the rules,” Stiles hums pleasantly and starts curling the rope around Derek’s forearms methodically, making sure to wrap it as much as possible around the iron work of the headboard as well, so that Derek really won't be able to move them.

It takes some time to tie all the knots satisfactorily and Stiles isn’t helped by Derek who keeps licking and nipping at his skin every time Stiles comes a little too close to Derek's mouth as he works.

Stiles, wanting to check on the result of his work from further away, sits back on Derek’s lap who grunts as Stiles comes into contact with his hard on. Stiles wiggles deliberately for a second, earning a small snarl of warning and then moves off the bed to stand. He surveys Derek for a few seconds, stepping closer to the headboard to look at the knots from another angle.

“You comfortable like this? Does anything hurt?” he wants to know. It’s not because Scott had been okay that it’s going to be the same for Derek. So better make sure.

Derek shrugs. “No, all good.”

Stiles nods, reassured, and once he’s satisfied he did as best as he could after checking again, starts stripping. 

Derek watches him hungrily, and if that isn’t a total ego boost for Stiles, and puts his clothes with Derek’s on the one chair in the room. He stretches slowly and then crosses his arms in a thoughtful way as he observes Derek again. 

“Okay, now tug.” At Derek’s confused look he keeps going. “Try and rip them off… Let’s see what you can do about them, big guy.”

Derek watches him, still looking adorably confused, brows furrowed. But as Stiles doesn't let up, he starts doing as asked. At first it’s just small tugs, nothing serious, but as Stiles looks at him unimpressed, he starts tugging at the restraints for real. He does so for a few seconds and as he realizes they don’t budge at all, goes in even harder, a look of concentration on his face. When the iron frame only clatters against the wall behind it but nothing else happens, Derek’s eyes snap up to Stiles in bewilderment. Stiles watches him attentively, a smile growing always bigger on his face until it becomes a full fledged victorious and elated grin. 

“What is this?” Derek questions in wonder, tugging again but just as unsuccessful at ripping the rope.

“This,” Stiles says as he makes to straddle Derek again and propping himself up on his chest, “Is wolfsbane infused rope I made just for us.”

As expected, Derek sputters for a second at the term _wolfsbane_ and looks at Stiles in slight shock. 

“Wolfs-”

“You said you trust me, right?” Stiles speaks over him, wanting to reassure his wolf and looks him earnestly in the eyes.

Derek closes his mouth and opens it again a few times and then finally nods, breathing in deeply.

“I had Deaton and Scott help… and trust me that weren’t two fun conversations… but if you don’t want to do this, I get it, okay? I'll just untie you and-”

“No!” Derek cuts him off this time and Stiles sees him relax against the pillows again. “No, I want this… I want to tell you we don’t need them but...” and he actually blushes now, “We both know you'll be laying under me in no time if we don’t use them, especially after going so long without being inside you… and they're actually rather comfortable so… yeah, I want this.”

Stiles’ response to this confession is to lean down and kiss Derek deeply, happily, gratefully.

He feels Derek’s arms jerking reflexively, wanting to touch him but sinks into the kiss nonetheless. 

Once they're both breathless, Stiles sits up again and deliberately angles his hips so Derek’s cock can slip under his balls and against his own cock as he gently rotates his hips.

“You do realise I'm going to make you pay for all the last times you threw me off, right?” Stiles says pleasantly but the threat is very present in his eyes as he strokes strong, long fingers over Derek’s chest and stomach, hips still moving.

“Do you worst,” Derek tells him with a cocky smirk but they both know that Derek’s going to have a hard time. A very good hard time though.

“Oh, you’re so on!” Stiles beams, never one to back down from a challenge.

He glides down the length of the werewolf’s body in one fluid movement until he is between Derek's parted legs. With one last grin, he lowers his face to Derek’s dick and licks one broad stripe along the underside, catching the drop of precome at the tip. Derek breathes in raggedly but remains quiet otherwise. Stiles reproduces the same movement a few times and then latches onto the head, sucking it in greedily, humming at a new burst of fluid. This time, Derek does swear and his hips hitch up briefly. Stiles puts his hands on his hips to steady himself and starts bobbing his head up and down in an even rhythm. After a while though, he takes him in deeper and deeper, until the head nudges the back of his throat and he swallows around it reflexively. When this earns him a loud growl from above him, he concentrates on his gag reflex, relaxing his throat and jaw and goes even deeper. This time, he gets an actual snarl and Derek pumps his hips up. Stiles lets him do so for a few long seconds, giving Derek the opportunity to push in and out of his mouth in slow deep thrusts, never too hard to hurt but his girth making Stiles’ eyes water nonetheless. He's enjoying every second.

Stiles pulls up again then, receiving a small whine for his trouble and laughs merrily at Derek’s obvious enjoyment of his ministrations. 

“What? You wanna come in my mouth?” Is his question, his voice already wrecked by taking Derek so deeply. “Or you want this?” he rasps as he turns around and straddles Derek’s hips backwards, leaning forward on his hands and thus presenting his ass to the wolf, just a few inches separating him from Derek’s face.

He chuckles impishly as Derek growls long and deep, the headboard banging against the wall loudly for the first time. 

Stiles turns his head to look at the werewolf, whose eyes are already shining and zeroed in on Stiles’ ass, and then at his bound arms. The rope hasn't moved an inch it seems.

“Already ready to flip me over?” Stiles tuts teasingly and actually makes his ass jiggle a bit just to get a rise out of the other man.

“Stiles,” Derek growls warningly but it’s an empty threat and they both know it. Although he sees Derek trying to turn his arms in the coils and tugging ever so slightly. 

Stiles only grins and sits up to stretch over to the bedside table and take the lube from its usual spot. He also opens the drawer and takes out a thin bright red dildo. They haven't really played with any toys until now and Stiles had bought this one specially for this occasion. He purposely didn't buy a large one, still wanting to feel the stretch when Derek was finally going to be inside him.

“The color suits my skin tone, don’t you think?” he asks Derek, extremely amused at the unimpressed look he gets for this. “Thought you'd like to watch me open myself up for you, get all nice and ready for you, hmm?” his voice gets deeper and Derek’s nostrils flare and his hands clench into fists over his head.

Stiles goes back into position over Derek, facing forward and pumps a few squirts of lube onto his fingers. He spreads the gel over them, heating it as he does so and then reaches back behind him to where he knows Derek is still watching ravenously. He slowly glides his digits over his hole, spreading the lube and presses his index finger inside. His groans a little louder than he would normally have with only one finger, wanting to torture Derek a bit more and starts pushing the finger in and out at a slow pace. From his vantage point, he can only see Derek’s thigh muscles clenching and unclenching and hear his small groans. He adds a second finger then, the stretch a little more present but still not enough. They might not have gone further than handjobs and blowjobs since he came back, but that doesn't mean Stiles hasn't used his fingers every chance he got while away. Working himself up to two fingers is no big deal and he sighs in pleasure as he picks up just a little more speed. The bed rattles again and he grins, but just closes his eyes while he enjoys himself and what he is doing to Derek with this. Considering himself open enough, he slips his fingers out and reaches for the dildo. He pumps some lube on it and coats it before he reaches behind himself again. Not wanting to miss Derek’s expression though, he looks over his shoulder and sure enough, Derek’s eyes are trained on where the toy is nudging against Stiles's entrance, pupils blown and breath coming fast. 

Derek lifts his eyes to Stiles, expression intense, but lowers them again the second he sees Stiles’ hand move and push the toy inside. They groan together as the toy breaches him and Stiles falls back forward, catching himself with his other arm as his eyes close again. He starts fucking himself with sure and even thrusts, gasping sharply as he manages to press it against his prostate every now and then, feeling how his cock dribbles liquid over its length. It’s not the best position for him to do this but he wants to make a show for Derek and he is pretty successful apparently when he hears the desperate sounds the werewolf is making behind him. Stiles opens his eyes to look down at Derek’s erection between their bodies and discovers a few drops of precome have landed on Derek's lower belly. He wants to lick them off, but the position doesn't permit it, he’s too far away and moving would put his ass directly over Derek’s face and though he loves having the other man’s mouth on him, now is not the time. 

A loud noise of iron against a hard wall has him coming back from his musings and Derek whines from behind him.

“Stiles.” Voice between desperation and frustration. “Please, need to be inside you.”

Oh and if this isn’t pure music to Stiles' ears. 

Stiles takes the toy out, throws it to the side and moves his legs so he’s back to sitting over Derek and facing him. He leans in and kisses Derek hard, slipping his tongue inside the older man's eager mouth until they’re out of breath again. 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Stiles agrees as he straightens again and moves one hand behind him to grab Derek’s rigid cock, slathering the rest of the lube over it and lining him up with his hole. He steadies himself with his other hand over Derek’s shoulder and while keeping eye contact, slowly sinks down, not stopping before he has the whole length deep inside him.

He throws his head back in bliss, closes his eyes and moans loudly while Derek groans and growls with him. 

“Fuck, I missed this,” Stiles croaks, savoring the delicious stretch and swiveling his hips to intensify the feeling. 

Letting go of Derek’s shoulder, Stiles straightens fully and starts slowly moving up and down, staying down for a few seconds, liking the feel of the large length inside him, and then rising up again. Then he changes the pattern, slowly lifting up until the tip barely stays inside and then slams down again, crying out whenever he hits his prostate just right and Derek nearly howling as he squeezes his cock, hard. 

After a particularly hard downward thrust, Derek snarls viciously and tugs at his bindings harshly, making the whole bed tremble under them.

“Stiles!” he growls menacingly, tugging again and again, arms twisting and turning but the rope not letting up. “Let me go.”

Stiles laughs out loud and goes back to bouncing more evenly. 

“Not gonna happen, Sourwolf,” he smirks smugly. “I’m not done with you.” 

Derek’s next snarl is more animal than human and he snaps his hips up sharply. Stiles audibly gasps and cries out when Derek keeps at it, the powerful thrusts feeling devine, but that’s not playing fare.

“Nuh uh, you don’t get to do this either, cheaterwolf,” Stiles reprimands breathlessly and lets Derek slip out of him so he ends up thrusting against thin air. 

The werewolf glares, eyes turning bright yellow, but stops moving again. Stiles smiles brightly, mischievously.

“I guess now is time for some real payback,” Stiles declares wickedly as he takes Derek in again and sighs.

He leans back, bracing his arms on Derek’s thighs, moves his legs so he’s sitting fully on him with his feet planted on either side of Derek’s sides and then proceeds to fuck himself hard and fast onto Derek's dick, using his feet for traction. It is pure heaven. His dick slaps wetly against his lower belly with every thrust, Stiles uttering broken little cries of ecstasy as every downward push lets Derek’s cock rub against his sweet spot.

“Fuck, Derek, so fucking _good_!” he keens nearly delirious with the feeling and feels delicious heat starting to curl in his belly.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts and Stiles, who had closed his eyes at some point, looks over to him. Derek is trying desperately to alternately tear through the rope and break the headpiece to get to him. “Let me go, Stiles!” his voice is deep and animalistic, barely sounding like him, but Stiles doesn't relent and keeps going, slamming down extra hard just to see Derek lose it further.

“No,” Stiles states simply, breathlessly, starting to lose control himself at seeing Derek like this.

This time Derek actually roars, throwing his head back in absolute frustration and rattles the bed again. Stiles stares wide eyed as Derek’s features start to transform. His eyes that have been glowing for a good while now, start burning even brighter, his ears go pointy, hair starts slowly sprouting along his sideburns, his eyebrows vanish and lastly teeth lengthen and sharpen into fangs. 

“Stiles,” he snarls again through his fangs. “Stiles, please.” This time his voice is pleading.

Stiles is awed at having brought Derek to the point of his beta shift and it turns him on wildly, the hot coils of his nearing orgasm getting tighter and tighter inside him, ready to snap. This is how he wants to come, with Derek looking wrecked because of him, all desperate and needy to the point of transforming, his beautiful cock ramming so perfectly into Stiles, his own legs burning exquisitely from his relentless moves. Stiles manages to balance on one hand and reaches toward his bouncing and leaking dick, circling it with his hot fingers and starts stroking it with sure and quick pulls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hears Derek gasp. “Stiles, look at me,” he pleads, voice desperate and Stiles, not having noticed that his eyes closed again, does. And that’s it, the look of pure agonising ecstasy on Derek’s transformed face pushing Stiles over the edge, making him shout loudly, spilling hot and sticky over his hand and stomach, going as far as hitting his throat. 

Derek isn’t far behind, whining and cursing fluently as he lets Stiles’ burning insides rip his own climax from him, exploding in white hot bursts inside the younger man above him. 

Derek is still growling under his breath when Stiles collapses back onto his knees over him, slumping breathless and messy against his chest. Stiles' forehead rests against Derek's throat, hot and fast puffs of air being exhaled over his neck, lifting the small hairs at the back. 

They bask in the afterglow for a long time, not moving at all until Stiles lifts his head again and slides his lips against Derek’s, who’s now back back to his human face and welcomes the gesture contentedly, letting their tongues meet lazily. 

“That… was awesome, abso- _fucking_ -lutely incredible!” Stiles enthuses fervently against Derek’s mouth, the latter only humming in response. Stiles kisses him hard again before leaning up slightly, the movement making them both groan as Derek slips out of him, to get his hands on the rope. 

It takes him some time to unknot everything, seeing as he’s still high on endorphins and completely euphoric, his hands trembling a little from taking his weight for so long as well.

Derek takes the opportunity to kiss and lick at Stiles’ skin again, groaning possessively when his tongue encounters the splash of come on Stiles throat. Stiles chuckles fondly at his antics and finally manages to remove the long rope from his wolf. The second his arms are free and the rope is on the floor, Derek tackles Stiles and they land heavily on the other side of the bed. Stiles has barely the time to yelp at the unexpected move, before he’s being caged in by Derek’s arms on either side of him. The wolf is still between Stile's legs, and pushes a hot, insistent tongue in his mouth. Stiles reflexively wraps his arms around Derek and opens up for him readily. The wolf then slides down his body to lick at the remaining splashes of his release that have landed on Stiles' belly. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, Stiles,” Derek growls, half in awe and half in frustration in between his licks. “Only you, only ever you.”

Stiles laughs merrily, satisfied and proud of the effect he has on Derek.

“We already established I'm pretty special,” he says amusedly, petting Derek’s hair and stroking through the damp strands reverently. “And you’re not too bad yourself.”

Derek doesn't say anything but the comment earns him an answering nip to one hip, making Stiles laugh loud and happy again. 

Once Derek is done with _cleaning_ Stiles up, he stands and fetches a damp washcloth to wipe them down. 

Done with that too, he flings the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom and makes Stiles get up from the bed so they can slip under the covers together. 

Stiles curls into Derek’s side, the older man wrapping a possessive arm around him, tugging him close.

Knowing he won't see any marks on Derek’s arms but still wanting to make sure he’s really been fine during it all, Stiles grabs the arm that isn’t currently holding him with both of his hands and turns it over this way and that way slowly.

“You really didn't feel anything?” he asks, eyes trained on the arm. 

“The only harm that could have happened would have been from me struggling too much against the rope,” Derek says, giving a one shoulder shrug.

“You _did_ struggle. A _lot_ ,” Stiles states, satisfied grin back in place and lets go of Derek’s arm who gives him an unhappy but guilty look at being reminded. He wisely remains quiet though because he once again wouldn't have been able to let Stiles take control had there not been the rope.

Then Stiles props himself up on Derek’s chest and looks over his face quizzically. Derek lifts an enquiring eyebrow at him. 

“Did you realize you shifted at the end?” Stiles wonders. Derek had been pretty out of it with frustration and excitement by the end. The horrified look he gets in return is answer enough, but Stiles doesn't understand why Derek seems so worried about it.

“Hey, hey,” he says as Derek looks away, expression ashamed, and cups his face to make him look at him again. “I didn't mind… I mean obviously, right? It was fucking hot to see you lose it like this because of me.”

“You found it hot?” is Derek’s incredulous question.

“Sure?” Stiles says confused. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s who you are, right? I’ve always known it and I knew it going into this,” he continues, indicating them both with a wide hand gesture. 

Derek averts his eyes and shrugs dismissively, but Stiles doesn't buy his nonchalance, not with how he just reacted.

"I guess, it's never been an issue until now. I've never lost control like that during sex before… The few people I've been with have either not known who I really am and those who knew wouldn't…" he trails off and doesn't continue and that's when it hits Stiles like a ton of bricks.

No wonder Derek has so many trust issues. He doesn't have the best track record with relationships, that much has always been clear. Breaden had been cool but it wasn't a relationship. Derek had actually never been able to simply truly be himself with anyone. Stiles takes all Derek is, man and wolf, like it's normal. Because you can’t separate the two, they're one and the same person. Stiles had always taken it for granted, but apparently not Derek, always having to hold back, never showing his true self, the whole package. Stiles' heart breaks a little at the knowledge, but is immensely proud and honored that Derek has chosen to trust him enough, even if not completely aware of doing so, to just be himself. Not just a man and not just a wolf, but a beautiful and powerful werewolf.

“Their loss,” Stiles manages to get out, voice more a croak than anything else but it gets Derek to look back at him. His expression is unreadable, something he has perfected over the years but Stiles just keeps eye contact for as long as it will take for Derek to understand he means every word he's said and every action he's made. His heartbeat telling it all. 

“Only you,” Derek finally says and grabs Stiles’ neck gently, bringing their foreheads together.

Stiles smiles softly. 

“Yup, you’re stuck with me, big guy,” he says playfully but the tone misses by a mile and it comes out soft and honest.

“Mine,” Derek whispers.

“Yours,” Stiles promises. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and reviews are dearly appreciated
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://anna-hawk.tumblr.com/)


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